The Storm Inside
by timewalker05
Summary: When a hurricane hits New York City, Castle is trapped at Beckett's apartment.


THE STORM INSIDE

Usually, Kate Beckett found the patter of rain on the window pane soothing. Not today. Today, there was something ominous in the snare drum rapping of water in waves against the window. Of course, considering the buildup the various news organizations had been giving hurricane Javier (and don't think that hadn't made Esposito the butt of innumerable jokes around the squad room), it was perhaps more surprising that the entire population of New York hadn't gone screaming out of the city to higher ground.

She checked her pager again. Captain Gates had sent all but a skeleton crew of the homicide squad home. They had all volunteered to supplement the uniforms as emergency responders, of course, but the Captain had been adamant – the last thing the city needed was a bunch of detectives running around the city getting into trouble by trying to help those who were actually trained for this kind of emergency. The detectives would be called if there was anything they could do.

Beckett sighed and clipped the pager back on her belt. She almost wished it would go off. She felt so helpless just sitting around her apartment.

She walked over to the window and pulled back the curtains. Just then, a terrific gust of wind drove the rain hard against the window, shaking the pane and startling her. She glanced down and frowned at the tiny trickle of water starting to pool on the window sill. Obviously, the seals weren't up to forty mile-an-hour winds driving water against them. She made a mental note to call her building super later.

The driving rain obscured the view out the window, melting the city into an abstract morass of dull grays.

She was just reaching to check her pager again when there was a loud banging at the front door. She frowned. She hadn't buzzed anyone into the building, so it must be one of her neighbors. But then, between her recent arrival in the building and her long, odd hours, she didn't really know anyone in the building. Her eyes darted to her bedroom, where her Glock 19 was locked in her chest of drawers, but then gave her head a little shake. There was a fine line between careful and paranoid.

The door banged again, louder and more insistent.

"Coming!" Beckett called. "Just a minute."

She threw the locks and opened the door… and took a step backwards in surprise.

"Castle," she said. "What on earth?"

Rick Castle stood in the hallway outside her door, water dripping off the fedora that was pulled comically low on his head. He wore a black trench coat, but it was completely soaked through. Beckett looked down to see a small puddle forming on the floor around him.

"Geeze, Castle, you're soaked," she said, grabbing him by the arm and pulling him inside. Water seeped over her hand where she held him.

"Hi, B-B-B-Beckett," he stammered.

"You're shivering," Beckett admonished. "C'mon. Let's get you out of those wet clothes."

"W-w-waited a long time to hear you say that," Castle said, although his blue lips and shivering took some of the zing out of his attempt at playful banter.

Beckett ignored the comment and, seeing that he was leaving a puddle on her hardwood floor, pulled him into the tiled floor of the bathroom. She helped him off with his coat and hung it over the shower curtain rod. His clothes underneath were nearly as wet as the coat. "You're going to catch your death, Castle," she chided. "Take them all off."

Castle dropped his hat on the floor and then pulled off his sport coat and threw it over the rod next to his trench coat while Beckett turned and pulled some towels out of the cabinet. She turned back to find him trying to unbutton his shirt, but his hands were shaking so badly that he was fumbling with the buttons.

"Here," she said, setting the towels down on the toilet seat and brushing his hands aside. She reached up and slowly started to unbutton his shirt.

He tried to push her hands away. "I c-c-can undress m-m-myself," he said, teeth chattering.

"And die of pneumonia in the meantime," Beckett said. "And I don't want to have to fill out the paperwork explaining a dead body in my apartment." She brushed his hands aside again and finished unbuttoning his shirt. It was hard not to notice the way it clung to his surprisingly well-muscled chest. She peeled it off of him and threw it on the floor. Then she turned and picked up one of the towels. "Here," she said. "Dry yourself off."

While he did, she turned and started running hot water in the tub. She turned and moved the other towel from the toilet seat to the counter next to the sink. "Sit," she said, motioning to the toilet.

Castle sat on the toilet seat, continuing to towel his hair while he did so. Beckett knelt in front of him started to unlace his shoes. Castle opened his mouth to say something, but at a sharp glance from Beckett he bit his tongue. She suppressed a small smirk. Smart man. She had to tug to get his shoes off and then peeled off his socks.

He wiggled his toes to get some feeling back into them.

Steam from the bath started to whirl around the room and Beckett turned the hot water down slightly and turned the cold water tap open just enough to keep the water from being too hot. She tested the stream, adjusted the taps slightly, and then turned back to Castle.

He had taken off his belt and laid his dripping wallet next to the sink, but had not, Beckett noted, taken off his pants. He looked at her a little sheepishly.

"Really? Modesty, Castle?" Beckett said. "From you?"

"Oh," Castle said. "Well, I was trying to be. But if it doesn't bother you…" He reached up and started to unbutton his pants.

Beckett turned quickly and headed toward the door. "There's bubble bath under the sink if you want it," she said, then pulled the door closed behind her.

She stopped just outside the closed door and took a deep breath, willing her heart to stop beating so quickly. With a quick shake of her head, she chided herself for acting like some schoolgirl and hurried into the kitchen. She grabbed some old dish towels and started mopping up the trail of water from the front door to the bathroom, then opened the front door and mopped up the worst of the puddle outside her door.

Going back into the kitchen, she dropped the wet towels in one side of the sink. Humming to herself, she turned and grabbed the tea kettle from the stove and filled it with water. She fired up the stove and then took down two over-size mugs from the cabinet. Turning to the pantry, she pulled out a jar of honey and the box of teabags, and then went to the refrigerator to get the lemon juice. She smiled as she remembered her mother making her hot tea with lemon and honey when she would come in from the cold, swearing that it was the very best thing for warding off a cold.

She opened the jar and scooped out a generous dollop of honey into each of the mugs and then squirted a little lemon juice in each. It wasn't as good as real lemons, but with her schedule fresh produce tended to go bad in her refrigerator before she got a chance to use it.

She glanced back at the teapot. Little wisps of steam were starting to occasionally spurt from the spout. She pulled out four teabags and slipped two into each mug before putting all the supplies back in the pantry and the fridge. Just as she closed the refrigerator door, the kettle started to whistle, coaxing another smile from her as she remembered her mother bustling around their kitchen.

She turned off the stove and poured some of the steaming water in the mugs, stirring each until the honey dissolved.

She stepped back over to the bathroom door and knocked. "You okay in there, Castle?"

There was a sudden splashing sound and Castle cleared his throat before replying, "I was just looking for the rubber duck," he called through the door.

Beckett shook her head. "I'll make sure to pick one up for next time," she said, then suddenly blushed and bit her bottom lip. Fortunately, Castle either missed the implication or chose to let it pass.

"There's a robe on the back of the door," she called.

"I see it. Thanks," he called back. "Be out in a second."

"Take your time," she called back.

She stepped into the bedroom and started rummaging through her things, trying to find something that would fit him.

"Not exactly my style."

She started at the sound of his voice and spun around to see him standing in the doorway, his wet hair tousled and his large frame straining against a pink robe that didn't quite reach him elbows or his knees.

Beckett's hand flew to her mouth, but she wasn't able to suppress the chortle that escaped her lips.

Castle spun around as if modeling. "What's the matter, you don't think it flatters me?"

"Oh, it's you, Castle," Beckett said. "Pink is definitely your color."

"Hey, it takes a real man to wear pink."

"And to pull off a woman's bathrobe."

"Touché."

Beckett reached in her drawer and pulled out her largest pair of sweat pants and an old police sweatshirt that had belonged to a long-forgotten boyfriend. Castle caught them. "Thanks," he said.

He stood there, waiting.

"That's it, unless you want to borrow some of my underwear," Beckett said.

"Oh, yeah, um. Right," Castle said, hurrying back to the bathroom.

Beckett grinned and went into the kitchen. She pulled the tea-bags out of each mug, spun the string around the bag to squeeze out the liquid, and tossed the used bags in the trash can.

"What do you think?"

Beckett turned and stifled another laugh. The sweatshirt's sleeves stopped a good three inches above him wrists and the sweatpants stopped mid-calf. "Very stylish," she said. "You can borrow them whenever you like." She picked up a mug from the counter and handed it to him.

"Whiskey?" he asked.

"Hot tea with honey and lemon," she said. "My mother's cure-all."

He gave a slight nod. "Even better," he said, with that ghost of a smile that was just so damned attractive.

Beckett picked up her own mug and gestured to the couch. Castle sat down at one end. Beckett pulled out a couple of coasters and then sat on the opposite end of the couch, one leg pulled up underneath her.

Castle lifted the mug to his lips, took a tentative sip, winced, blew on it, and then took another sip. He nodded with approval and then set it down on the coaster.

Beckett set down her own mug to let it cool a little. "So what in the hell were you doing out in a hurricane, Castle?"

Castle hung his head a little sheepishly. "I got a call from down at the Old Haunt. Water was coming in the basement and we had to get all the papers moved. I was in a cab on the way back home when it stalled out in the high water. Fortunately, it was only three blocks from here. Sorry to bother you."

Beckett shook her head. "It's no bother, but you shouldn't have gone out in this. You I expect it from, but I thought at least Alexis would have more sense than to…"

"Alexis!" Castle cried and ran toward the bathroom. He came back out jabbing at his cell phone, shaking it, and then jabbing at it again.

Beckett shook her head and went over to the counter to pick up her own cell, surmising that his was d.o.a. thanks to the soaking he got. "Here," she said, hitting his home number on speed dial and handing it to him.

"Thanks," Castle said, grabbing the phone.

"Alexi…" he started. "Yes. Yes, I'm fine… No. No, I'm at Beckett's… No, her apartment… The cab stalled out a couple blocks from here… Yes, you were right… No, I shouldn't have gone out… Are you and… Yes, daughter, I do sometimes take stupid risks, but… Yes… Yes… Are you and mother… Yes, I know you can take care of yourself… I'll… Yes…" He handed Beckett the phone. "Alexis would like to speak to you."

Beckett took the phone. "Hi Alexis."

"Is Dad really okay?" the voice at the other end of the phone asked.

"He's fine. He looked kind of like a drowned rat when he came here, but I got him a hot bath and some tea and he's getting the color back in his cheeks."

"Oh, thank God. I _told_ him not to go, but you know how he is."

"Don't I. Listen, it's getting too rough for him to go out again. He can stay here till the storm passes. Will you and Martha be okay?"

"We'll be fine," Alexis said. "I made sure we had a fully stocked emergency preparedness kit and plenty of bottled water. I've got candles, blankets, canned food… And Gram has a complete roster of activities planned, starting with charades."

"Sounds like fun."

"On second thought, maybe I should come over there."

Beckett chuckled. "I think you're better off keeping an eye on Martha. I'll take care of your Dad. Besides, he's enjoying trying on my clothes."

There was a giggle on the other end of the line. "Thanks, Kate," Alexis said. "I was getting pretty worried."

"No problem," Beckett said. "I might not have quite the emergency preparedness kit you do, but we'll manage."

"Okay."

"Oh, and you have Ryan's and Esposito's numbers, just in case?" Beckett asked. "Esposito's apartment is a little closer, so try him first."

"They both already called to check up on us. I'll text them to say that Dad's safe and sound."

"Safe, yes," Beckett said. "But I don't know if he was ever sound."

"Good point."

"Oh, and don't tell them Castle's here," Beckett said softly. "I don't want…"

"Not a word," Alexis said. "I'll call you later."

"Good. Bye, Alexis."

"Bye, Kate. And thanks again."

Beckett snapped the phone shut and then turned to Castle. "At least someone in your family has some sense."

Castle grinned and sat back down on the couch. Beckett sat the phone down on the coffee table and went to go check all the windows again. The storm was growing worse and the window panes rattled as the wind howled and the rain slammed against the glass in great torrents.

"Everything all right?" Castle called from the other room.

"Fine," Beckett said, stepping back into the living room. She went back to the couch and sat down. "So there's a Three Stooges marathon on TCM," she said, picking up the remote.

Castle grinned and started to reply when the lights flickered twice and then died, plunging the apartment into darkness.

"Crap," Beckett said.

Castle's white teeth gleamed in the darkness.


End file.
